Boy Toys
by Quiirky
Summary: OS. Can archenemies bond over toys? Hinted MelloxNear.


A window shattered and shards of glass rained down on an expanse of meticulously manicured lawn. Somewhere inside the building, a series of shouts erupted followed by a loud thumping noise and then the crash of a door being barged down and ripped from its hinges.

"Mello!!"

The ringmaster had come to tame the wild beast, and he looked absolutely furious with his glasses askew, dentures bared, brow knit, and face blazing red like a Shinigami's apple. He was glaring at a skinny blond boy, the obvious culprit and cause of his rage.

Mello was lying next to an upturned desk chair, pinning what appeared to be an overgrown marshmallow beneath him.

"Get off of Near this minute!"

Mello, panting, turned his head to the side to fix Roger with an equally intense stare. He didn't move from his position, but raised a shaking fist.

"Don't you dare hit him!" Roger bellowed, vaguely aware of the cluster of curious orphans who had converged in the doorway behind him. "I said get off! Now!!"

"I still have fifty-two seconds," Mello snarled through clenched teeth, "left of this minute!"

That's when Roger pounced.

...

Roger locked Mello in the utilities closet and dragged Near to his office. This was the usual routine when Mello got on Roger's last nerve. It gave Roger sufficient time to calm down before dishing out the blond's punishment. If he didn't allow himself a private "time-out" in his office, then, so help him, he'd probably flog Mello within an inch of the kid's life.

Every week something new was broken, whether it was Wammy property or another kid's bone. The fights Mello had with Near were frequent, but, as Roger noted, never _this_ serious.

He'd brought Near to his office with him to check the albino for injury. He found nothing wrong with "Number One," and had just decided that the appropriate punishment for Mello would be for him to clean every unbroken window in the House, and was just about to go fetch the miscreant when Near spoke.

"My ankle."

"What's wrong with it? Is it broken?" Roger inquired frantically, dashing back over to Near to examine the tiny boy's sore spot.

"It doesn't appear to be broken or even swollen," Roger said after thorough inspection. "Can you show me exactly where it hurts?"

"Oh, it doesn't hurt," replied Near simply.

"But you just said -"

"I was going to comment on how my ankle matches my pajama bottoms in color."

Roger was rendered speechless.

"It also happens to match my shirt and my underwear," Near continued in his even tone, "and even Mello's bra."

"M-Mello wears a bra?" Roger stuttered.

"No, but he has one he took from the top drawer of your desk."

Roger's face blossomed into color.

"Now you listen here, young man . . . "

"However, I do hurt."

"Where?" Roger asked, trying to recover, but his voice was slightly higher pitched than usual.

Near looked at Roger with big, adorable puppy dog eyes.

"Right here," he said softly, slowly lifting a hand and touching his chest with the tips of his ghostly white fingers.

Roger stared.

"Are you implying that your heart hurts?"

"I am indicating that I am emotionally distressed," came the monotonic reply.

"Do I need to set up an appointment for you with the psy-"

"That will not be necessary. All I ask for is the toy you confiscated from me six days, four hours, twenty-three minutes and approximately five seconds ago."

"No," Roger snapped, straightening up and heading for the door once again. "You know I deemed that toy completely inappropriate. If that is all, Near, I am going to collect Mello. You may want to go to the playroom or somewhere Mello won't -"

"I am scared Mello will find me and cause me unpleasant physical harm. Perhaps I can stay in here so the two of us can reach an agreement while under your apt supervision."

"Yes, that sounds reasonable," Roger agreed.

...

When Roger reentered his office with Mello, Near was still seated, hands in his pockets. The boys made up much quicker than Roger had anticipated, and when Mello accepted his punishment and apologized to Near, Roger shooed the boys out of his office, pleased that everything had worked out so well. He sighed as he sat down at his desk, pressing a button on his phone to speed dial the repairman.

Meanwhile, in a deserted room that was sometimes used for Physics classes, Melo and Near stood facing each other.

"So, you get your toy back?" Mello asked, eyeing Near's bulging pocket.

"Yes. Just as you suspected, it was in his top drawer." Near dug in his pocket and extracted a pair of furry handcuffs. "Were you successful as well?"

"Of course," Mello responded, lifting up his shirt to boast. "It was easy to find; only hiding it was a problem. But I quickly came up with a solution."

"Good work, Mello," Near said in a rather condescending manner.

Mello untied the rope and unwrapped it from around his torso.

"Shut up, Near. Just because you're number one doesn't mean you can talk down to me." The blonde smirked, grabbing the handcuffs from Near. "I'm the one who's gonna top you tonight!"

Near nodded. Their plan had worked.

"This is going to be . . . "

"Fun," Mello finished for him.

"Yes."


End file.
